Joker: Folie a Deux

Doubling Down on a Pair of Jokers

or

The Roar of the Greasepaint (The Smell of the Crowd)
 

Folie à deux (French for 'madness of two'), also called shared psychosis or shared delusional disorder (SDD), is a psychiatric syndrome in which symptoms of a delusional belief are "transmitted" from one individual to another.

 

Re-reading my review of Joker—a film which earned a billion dollars in revenues and secured Joaquin Phoenix a Best Actor Oscar—I soft-pedaled my major reservation to the film, which was "if you're going to make a movie about a comics fan-favorite with a proven track record, maybe you should stick a little closer to the source?" The Joker, of course, was a villain—some would say THE villain of The Batman series—but the Joker without Batman is a bad guy with no opposition, a villain without redemption, and the stomping grounds of Gotham City merely a 'burg without hope...not someplace you want to go to have a good time. Director Todd Phillips went a different route through town, basing his version of "Joker" on two Martin Scorsese movies (Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy), but without that director's Catholic horror at the consequences of dwelling incessantly in an isolated mind with delusions of grandeur. Centering your film around such a character was always going to be morally questionable and never on the side of the angels.

The movie, however, was a hit. And in the movie business, when you have a hit, you make a sequel, because, in Hollywood, lightning always strikes twice in the same place, despite overwhelming evidence of diminishing returns, both artistically and financially.

 

So, here, we have that sequel, Joker: Folie à Deux, which was trumpeted as a continuation of Phillips' Joker story, but adding another character from the Batman series (initially "The Animated Series" actually), the Joker's hench-woman and moll, Harley Quinn—probably the most toxic relationship in any comics setting, even more than the brick-throwing antics in Krazy Kat. But, Phillips puts the same anti-clockwise spin on the story, leaving behind the comics and the arcana. And starting fresh with old jokes.

The new film starts with a cartoon made by the animation team directed by Sylvain Chomet who made The Triplettes of Belleville as well as the unrealized Jacques Tati project, The Illusionist. It's a deflection—a lot of the movie is (as was the last one)—for when the blood-red curtains ending the cartoon open, we cut to the reality: Arthur Fleck (Phoenix) incarcerated in a wing of Gotham City's Arkham Asylum (done in full Titticut Follies grimness). Every morning, the wards are opened up by the guards (including Brendan Gleeson's Jackie Sullivan) so that the inmates can empty their bed-pans and get their requisitioned meds. Sullivan always begins the day by asking Fleck "Got a joke for me, Arthur?" but lately the erstwhile "Joker" has been silent.

You see, he's awaiting trial for the murder of talk-show host Murray Franklin, as well as three toughs who assaulted him on a subway, and for an unnamed orderly at Arkham (all presented in the first film). His attorney (Catherine Keener) has been diligently working on his case trying to keep Arthur appearing normal so she can plead insanity at his upcoming trial to keep him from being executed. But, Arthur's reputation precedes him like a shadow—he did, after all execute Franklin on live-television. And, there are those "Joker" fans in Gotham, fanning his flames—there was even a made-for-TV movie about him that gets mentioned a lot. Things are not looking good for Arthur.

That is until his relatively good, albeit drugged, behavior allows him to participate in a music-therapy program in another wing, where he meets Lee Quinzel (Lady Gaga), and their mutual attraction begins to perk him up. Just like in the cartoon at the beginning, Arthur starts to break into song—but just in his imagination—old standards like "If They Could See Me Now," "For Once in My Life," "They Long to Be (Close to You)," "To Love Somebody,""Bewitched," "That's Entertainment!" and even "The Joker" from the Newley-Bricusse musical "The Roar of the Greasepaint! The Smell of the Crowd!" (which is a little too on-the-painted-nose) others start popping up whether it's just Arthur standing in front of a TV, or director Phillips goes off on some extravaganza set-piece (he's already made a shot call-back to The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, so it isn't unsuspected.

The trouble, though, is pacing. Just as Joker would stop-cold whenever Phoenix had a chance to improvise for the camera, Folie a Deux stutters to a stop—or at least a slow crawl—whenever the music starts. The songs aren't delivered as bouncy show-stoppers, but slow internal monologues with hesitant half-hearted voices (even the Gaga), so there's a slight cringe factor whenever someone starts to break into song, off-set somewhat by the anticipation of what musical style Phillips will borrow (will it be La La Land? M-G-M? The Sonny and Cher Show?), and long after the joke wears a little thin, it will still be crooning along until somebody snaps out of the reverie. It tries the patience.

It will try the patience of comic book fans, as well. Just as Arthur is not "The Joker" of the comics (no, really), Lee is not Harley Quinn in any sort of incarnation, animated, live action, or four-color. The original Harley was a psychologist at Arkham Asylum, who fell under the Joker's spell during evaluations of him at the facility, and then things get a little muddled as she acquired above-human abilities and an acrobat's agility. For the longest time, she was attached to Joker's hip as a moll, henchwoman, girlfriend, soul-mate, but, eventually, that relationship became so damned toxic—they're both crazy, after all, and homicidal—that to keep Harley Quinn a viable character, keeping them apart seemed the only answer with DC Comics acting as the aggrieved parents pushing the couple apart. But, Lee in  Folie à Deux is somebody else. She's initially a fellow inmate, a firebug committed by her parents who happens to meet Arthur by accident and the sparks (heh) fly. But, even that's not right. In this, Lee is a hanger-on, like those souls who marry incarcerated prisoners for whatever reason—"in love with being in love" (but without conjugal obligation) reflected glory, "I can save them" fantasies, or just plain "bad wiring"—and she had herself committed with the intention of sharing his glory.

But, when Arthur is on trial, eventually serving as his own defense attorney (with Harvey Dent—played by Harry Lawtey serving as prosecutor), he's confronted by the reality of what he's done, and seems less the mythic failure of chaos and societal retribution, but, a flawed, screwed-up schlub, Lee dumps him, taking away the last shred of fantasy he has—even his fan-base becomes threatening to him, leaving him a good deal less better off than he was before.

Fantasy versus reality comes to a hard truth: that maybe the love of his life isn't what he thought it was (but, then, they did this in the first movie) and that the thronging crowds supporting him are merely a slathering mob there for their own self-aggrandizement (I've seen that one, too; I watch politics). Fleck has to confront the horrors of both of those realities and when they hit, there's no song or fantasy sequence to play him out.

Now, this all plays right into my film-philosophical wheel-house where love is a form of insanity and musicals are a false form that breaks the agreed-upon screen/reality wall to have characters break into unchallenged song to express internal emotions they're incapable of with mere dialog. What Phillips has done seems perfectly natural to me in the crazy-illusion film-world, especially when combined with lunatic characters like Joker and Lee. Sure, the film has flaws—I've brought up the pacing issue—but all the actors are great in it, including Phoenix and Gaga, and the concept is just enough "out-there" to maintain the themes of the first film and build on them.

And what is the theme? I'd contend that it's a cock-eyed continuation of a couple expressed in Christopher Nolan's Batman series—"You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain" (even if you actually start out as a villain but are a hero in your own mind) and where the symbol is the powerful thing, not the man inhabiting it. In the movie, Arthur Fleck isn't competent to carry on the mantle of "Joker" and he gets rejected.

Remember what I said about basing a movie on a villain unopposed, without redemption? There's no future in it. But "The Joker" is a popular character, some poor souls might say he's more popular than "The Batman" himself. So, you make a movie about him. But, "The Joker" that everybody (meaning the fan-base) likes is the agent of chaos, the contrarian, the one who's in control of things and leads the heroes on a merry—if deadly—chase. The Joker That brings in the box-office bucks is the one ahead of the game. That's the Joker that people respond to. That's The Joker that has fans.

This "movie-Joker" is not him; he's never in control. And I think that was always Phillips' intention with Arthur Fleck. A guy who fell between the cracks and by acting out inspired mob-hysteria among the anti-social. Joker: Folie à Deux—the name means so much more when you consider all this—is the the natural continuation of this premise and the logical conclusion. The movie does exactly what it wanted to do, bless its twisted little heart.

The result, of course, is the last riotous laugh: the movie is being rejected by its fan-base. Not because it's musical, but because this Joker is a loser. In many fan-circles, you can do bad things—horrible things—but, you can't be "a loser". That does nothing for fans wanting to identify with an agent of chaos, or see The Joker as the guy in charge manipulating the "order" of things. So, the sheep are rioting...or doing what sheep do when they protest, they find another patch of grass to gnaw away on and ignore what's not working for them anymore. As in the Who song "Let's forget you/better still" and find some other power symbol for their needful mimicking narcissism.

 

And that's the truth of it. Power fantasies are merely that. Fantasies. And when the fantasy fades away, well, as Arthur says "You get what you f-ing deserve."

 

"You can say that again, pal!"

Don't Make a Scene: The Misfits (1961)

The Story: Three actors from the Actor's Studios watch as The King of Hollywood does some of the best acting of his life.

That would be Montgomery Clift, Marilyn Monroe and Eli Wallach watching Clark Gable in The Misfits.

 

Robert Forster liked to tell the story of his first day acting in John Huston's Reflections of a Golden Eye, when Forster, new to movies and looking a little lost—he'd only done stage work and he was hired by 20th Century Fox after some time as a construction worker and teaching substitute—when Huston told him to prep for his first shot. "What do I do?" Forster asked the maverick director. Huston led him to the back of the camera and made him look through the view-finder. "You see that?" Huston grinned at the actor. "Fill it up!"

 

The Misfits is one of those movies where the actors do "fill it up."

 

The script for The Misfits is by Arthur Miller, who gave it to his wife, Monroe, as a present, but while filming was going on, the marriage was in its last throes. And the script, by that time, had undergone a bit of a transformation. Huston, who made his initial reputation in Hollywood as a scriptwriter, may have had a hand in that.

 

You read Miller's script and it's wordy and stagy. Gable's character of old cowboy Gay Rowland is in such bad shape from roping the horses that it's the character of Pence who drives Roslyn and Gay home. For whatever reasons, Huston ended up with just Gable and Monroe on the drive and, dramatically, that seems right. And the dialogue is whittled down to as spare as can be—most of the drama is in the actor's faces. Clift's wry farewell to Roslyn (after she tells him not to get hurt in the rodeos so damn much). Gable's shifting pains, both physical and mental, as he drives on not much sure of the future, but sure of the way. And Monroe's mercurial choices that play in her eyes and brows, unsure moment by moment of what she's gotten herself into in Reno, Nevada.

 

And it's not in the dialogue...it's in the faces...young and old alike. Miller wrote for the stage...film's another story...things are communicative and effective if they're seen but not necessarily heard.

 

And Huston doesn't put an "The End" credit at the tail of the film. Just the fabled star that Gay says will take them home...with an odd closing coda from composer Alex North that is...in a word..."spooky." 

 

It would be the last time audiences saw Gable...or Monroe...acting on the big screen.

 

The Set-Up: From Premiere Magazine "Classic Scene" April, 1998:  "To stay free, aging cowboy Gay Langland (Clark Gable) rounds up wild horses, even though, in the new West, the mustangs are led to slaughter and turned into pet food. "Everything else is just wages," he tells the horrified Roslyn (Marilyn Monroe), with whom he's fallen in love, but who remains distant. Here, in the film's final scene, this group of misfits—his friend Guido (Eli Wallach), battered rodeo cowboy Perce Howland (Montgomery Clift), and Roslyn—has gone to the desert highlands for a last roundup. Roslyn begs Gay to free the horses, but he goes on until, in a fierce battle, he ropes off the last stallion. Filming The Misfits was arduous. The production was plagued by delays and 130-degree heat. In an effort to combat boredom, the 59-year old Gable insisted on doing many of his own stunts, which put a strain on his weak heart. Shortly after filming was completed, Hollywood's quintessential leading man suffered a massive heart attack. He died days later.

 

Action.

 

[After Gay has singlehandedly roped off the last horse in the twilight]

GUIDO: You held him. I'm proud of ya, boy. You held him. We'll get them all back tomorrow. 

GUIDO: Just get your wind back now. Get your wind back. Don't worry, we're not through here. 

GUIDO: We're only gettin' started. 

[Bloody and exhausted, Gay looks harshly at Guido]

GUIDO: We don't need anybody in the world. You know that now, don't you? 

[Gay pulls out a knife and pushes Guido aside]

GUIDO: What are you doin'? 

[Gay cuts the rope, freeing the mustang...]

[...and sits on his truck's sideboard, breathing heavily.]

GUIDO: What in the hell you catch him for? 

GAYLORD LANGLAND: Don't want nobody makin' up my mind for me, that's all.

GAY: Damn 'em all! 

GAY: They changed it. Changed it all around. Smeared it all over with blood. 

GAY: Well, I'm finished with it. 

GAY: It's... It's like ropin' a dream now. 

GAY: Just gotta find another way to be alive, that's all. If there is one any more. 

GAY: Perce, 

GAY: cut that mare loose for me, will you?  

PERCE HOWLAND: Sure. 

[Roslyn walks tentatively toward Gay]

GAY: Drive you back, if you want. 

[Gay and Roslyn get in the truck.]

[Perce walks up to Roslyn]

PERCE: Um, 

PERCE: I'm pleased to have met you, Roslyn. 

ROSLYN TABER: Don't get hurt any more, will you, Perce? - 

GAY: See you around, Guido. -  

GUIDO: Where'll you be? Some gas station...Polishin' windshields? 

GUIDO: Makin' change in a supermarket? 

GUIDO: Try the Laundromat! They need a fella there to load the machines! 

GUIDO: Gay! 

ROSLYN: I'll leave tomorrow. 

ROSLYN: OK? 

[They stop the truck and she gets out, untying Gay's dog.]

GAY: I bless you, girl.

ROSLYN: Gay, if there could be one person in the world...

ROSLYN: ...a child who could be brave from the beginning... 

ROSLYN: I was scared to when you asked me. 

ROSLYN: But I'm not so much now. Are you? 

GAY: No. 

ROSLYN: How do you find your way back in the dark? 

GAY: Just head for that big star straight on. 

GAY: The highway's under it. 

GAY: It'll take us right home.

 

The Misfits

 

Words by Arthur Miller

 

Pictures by Russell Metty and John Huston

 

The Misfits is available on DVD from M-G-M Home Entertainment.